


Waterlogged Matches

by Merely_Specters



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Early in Canon, Ficlet, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Late at Night, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merely_Specters/pseuds/Merely_Specters
Summary: Fjord is falling. Somehow, a match leads to a flame, and Caleb is falling, too.But maybe they can pull each other out.
Relationships: Fjord & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Waterlogged Matches

Caleb lit a match.

He was alone, for the most part: the Mighty Nein had all fallen asleep. Fjord was the only other person awake, and even he was nearly dozing, swaying; his head was nodding, resting against his arms.

Caleb didn’t know why he had matches, to be perfectly honest: he could light a flame any time with a firebolt or prestidigitation. Maybe they had come with the candles. Maybe they had found their way from another of the Nein’s packs. But he had matches nevertheless.

Caleb lit a match, holding it straight up. He watched it burn.

The flame engulfed the match quickly, but Caleb didn’t let go, even as the fire licked his fingertips, lapping at his exposed index and ring and thumb. He didn’t let go even as it scalded, as it burned. He didn’t let go of the memories that came with the flame.

The match died out. The burning stopped.

Caleb lit another.

On the other side of camp, Fjord heard the ocean.

Intellectually, Fjord knew that he didn’t really hear the ocean. They were miles inland. But he heard the ocean nevertheless. The falchion was not as his side, but Fjord felt the cold metal against his skin. An itch. _Consume_. He felt his body sway back and forth as if moved by buffeting winds, heard the waves crashing around his head. His hands were clammy. He was neck-deep in seawater even as he sat on the earthen ground. He was freezing cold even as he sat by the burning fire.

 _Maybe the fire’s the problem_ , Fjord thought. _Maybe we just need to add a few more logs, and I’ll be dry again. Safe._

So Fjord turned, moving sluggishly through the brackish water toward Caleb.

Caleb’s fingers burned.

Fjord reached and put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb startled.

“Can you feed the fire?” Fjord asked. “Throw a firebolt or something?”

Caleb complied by tossing his match into the fire. Fjord threw a log. Some burning timber cracked apart, revealing smoldering embers; sparks flew upward. Caleb watched, his mind, still a million miles away.

Fjord sat down beside Caleb, snapping him out of his haze.

“Do you think we should wake up Molly and Jester for their watch?” Fjord asked apprehensively. He wasn’t eager to sleep ( _because with sleep came the dreams. Fjord had already had enough of the ocean for one day: he couldn’t handle drowning again_ ).

“We still have thirty minutes,” Caleb replied.

“Good, good.”

They watched the fire in silence. The only noise came from the occasional fauna or yet another crackle of the logs.

“It’s time for us to wake up the others.”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t feel like it’s been half an hour,” Fjord said quickly.

Caleb knew for certain that it had been thirty minutes. But when he saw Fjord’s still shivering body and the fear in his eyes, he lied. “You’re right. My mistake.”

It was two hours before Fjord and Caleb finally woke Jester and Molly for their watch.

When Caleb and Fjord both woke up tired the next morning, neither mentioned it to the others nor each other. The only evidence of that night was the disappearance of Caleb’s matches from his pack and their sudden appearance in the nearest lake. 


End file.
